


Masquerade

by Tweenie



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Victorian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-26
Updated: 2013-12-26
Packaged: 2018-01-06 03:39:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 16,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1101960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tweenie/pseuds/Tweenie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A story of disguises, mystery, and intrigue. Ciel Phantomhive likes games. Ciel Phantomhive always wins. That is, until a mysterious black clad stranger joins his game. Sebastian/Ciel. Victorian AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ballroom Blitz

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hello there, readers! Welcome to Masquerade! Thanks for stopping by! As stated in the summary, this story is AU. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Warnings: cynicism. . . that's about it for this chapter though. XD
> 
> Disclaimer: Kuroshitsuji. . . do not own it. I believe these characters belong to one Yana Toboso.

It was dark. The only light illuminating the spacious ballroom came from dull spotlights, covered by deep indigo screens. They danced 'round the room teasingly, leaving certain areas completely black for a few short moments. The flames on the ornate, golden chandeliers above them had long since been put out. Now, the men and women spun about aimlessly, identities hidden by ridiculous half masks.

Ciel Phantomhive scoffed behind a wine glass full of water, doing his best to avoid interacting with anyone until this dance was over. He certainly couldn't avoid it the entire night, as it would be absolutely unheard of for a nobleman of his quality to be so unsociable. Even with a mask, he was sure almost everyone at this silly little masquerade knew who he was. After all, he was most certainly the shortest person in attendance. It wouldn't take a genius to know he was a child.

Dozens of feet moved in perfect rhythm to the flouncy orchestra music. One step. Two step. So on. . . Ciel found it all so pointless. He found most of the lessons his dear aunt insisted he learn to be quite pointless, in fact. Such a great waste of time.

The little Earl managed to locate the blur of red that was practically floating across the dance floor, in the arms of a masked stranger. A tall man, with long blond hair, a white feathered mask covering his eyes and the bridge of his nose. Madame Red, as she so liked being addressed, was wearing an elated red grin and laughing playfully as the blond stranger spun her around for the fifteenth time. Honestly, why did she insist on going to these soirées in the first place? Better yet, why did she insist on bringing her nephew along with her?

" _You can't sit in the manor and feel sorry for yourself forever, Ciel. You need to get out and mingle with the other nobles. How else do you expect to make connections? You_ _won't get very far in the industry by yourself."_

Oh, yes, of course. That's why.

The boy let out another scoff and rolled his eyes. When would this torture end? He had better things to do with his time than "mingle" with useless fools who wouldn't benefit him at all. That was all he cared about; pawns. People with savvy skills that he could exploit for his own purposes, then dispose of when they are of no further use. That is how successful businesses are made; by stepping on people who are clearly beneath you.

A young boy he may be, but he was certain he could outwit any grown man in that ridiculous ballroom. Quite honestly, it was boring. Stepping on toes was no fun at all when it was made so incredibly easy. Ciel sighed deeply. His face was beginning to sweat under his mask. He so wanted to remove it but felt as though it would be rude. The added body heat from the dancers made the room feel something like an oven. As if this trip wasn't miserable enough. . .

The air was much more thick than Ciel's sensitive lungs could handle. Without a word, he slipped out of the room through the French doors. He managed to make it to the gardens behind the manor. With a deep breath, he allowed the cool nighttime air to fill his deprived lungs. Unlike the ballroom, the lights in the gardens were bright, bathing the trimmed hedges and the spitting fish fountain in a calming shade of blue. Knowing it may ruin his coat, but not really bothering to care, Ciel sat on the edge of the fountain.

He gazed down into the water, staring at his own melancholy reflection. When had he gotten so pale? ' _I've always been pale. . .'_ he thought to himself, chuckling mildly, like a madman, at his own nonsensical thinking.

He turned his attention back to the water, expecting to see only his own pallid face and the scowl that was now painted on it. Instead, just behind him, was a different ghostly white face. At least the lower half of one. The top half was covered by a jet black raven mask, feathers spewing from the corner like an elegant black wing preparing to take flight. A long black beak came to a point at the end of his nose, giving Ciel the illusion, in the rippling blue water, that he was being stalked by an actual raven.

Though the man had startled him, he remained so controlled so as not to let it show. He wasn't sure if the inaudible gasp he let slip was noticed by the intruder. The annoying smirk the man wore under his beak was a clear indication he was amused. By what, Ciel hadn't the slightest.

"I'm quite sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," the man assured. Ciel finally allowed himself to turn towards him, only to find the man was a great deal taller than him. Though, most everyone was, so this wasn't too big of a surprise. In fact, the raven man stood a good foot and a half taller than the thirteen year old Earl. His hair, jet black, just like almost everything on him, was combed back on his left side, resting peacefully behind his ear. On the opposite side, his fringe fell haphazardly to the contour of his face. Ciel stared in shock at the man's blood red gaze, peering at him from behind his beaded disguise. It was almost enough to send shivers of dread down his spine. Almost.

"It's alright," Ciel said with a smile, in the most pleasant voice he could manage through his annoyance. The raven man just continued to smile down at the smaller boy, his crimson eyes sliding closed as his smirk grew. Honestly, some people. Ciel's smile faded, his exposed cerulean eye darkening as the man chuckled playfully.

"Tell me little one, where are your parents?" the raven man said, his eyes still closed. Ciel allowed himself to shutter. It wasn't like the man would notice it anyway.

"My guardian is inside. In fact, I should be getting back as well. To be honest, I shouldn't even be out here," Ciel muttered pleasantly.

"Allow me to escort you," the raven man said, offering his left hand to Ciel, who stared at it skeptically for a moment before politely taking it.

The two slid back into the ballroom just as a new song was beginning, Ciel's right hand resting awkwardly atop the raven man's left. It was strange enough already that the raven man would exchange such a courtesy with another male. It became all the more strange when the raven man released Ciel and knelt down in front of him, upon one knee, offering his right hand this time.

"Would the young master be so kind as to allow me a dance?" he said, staring up expectantly at the boy in question. Ciel could do nothing but stare, wide eyed. What a foolish thing to ask. This man was an imbecile.

"Absolutely not!" the smaller boy finally screamed, sheepishly sinking when he realized people had turned to look at them.

"Please don't deny me, young master. It's only a dance. At the very least, tell me why it is that you would refuse me?" the raven man asked, his smooth voice cutting through Ciel's soul like butter.

"I _am_ refusing you because we are both men. Not to mention you are . . . far too. . . tall," Ciel sputtered rather ungracefully. The raven man smiled wider still.

"Could it be that the young master, who, by the way, is not yet a man, doesn't know how to dance?" Ciel just turned his eyes away, pretending to be focusing on something elsewhere. The raven man laughed when his question wasn't graced with a response. "Come now," he continued, taking Ciel's hand and leading him out to the dance floor, "Allow me to guide you."

Ciel tried desperately to pull back but found his efforts futile. His weak body could do little to stop the taller man.

"Please. . . I don't. . ." He said, trying his best to keep his voice low, so as not to draw too much attention to himself. "What will people think?"

"Not too much, I assume. You are just a child; it's not so unreasonable that I should like a dance. They'll likely find it endearing," the raven man said through a condescending smirk. He whirled the young boy to the center of the ballroom floor. Ciel scowled.

"I am not a child," he hissed through gritted teeth, sounding just like the very thing he was claiming not to be. The raven man's smirk grew as they whizzed past extravagant ball gowns and glittering masks. Ciel felt quite sick.

He stepped on the raven man's toes several times, most of them on purpose, in hopes that the man would get frustrated and release him. No such luck. The more the two spun around the violet ballroom, the worse off Ciel felt. His constricted lungs weren't of any help to his nauseous stomach. It wouldn't be too much longer before he released his nausea all over the raven man's nice black lapel. Wouldn't he be sorry then?

Ciel tried to hold it back as best he could, it would only make this already horribly embarrassing encounter all the more humiliating. How dare this fool degrade him in such a way? Did he have the slightest idea with whom he was toying?

Young Earl Phantomhive glanced around the room, noting that a bulk of the people surrounding them were looking in their direction. Some seemed to find the display adorable, while others seemed to think it was strange. While Ciel wasn't sure if anyone could recognize the raven man through his disguise, he was positive that most of the masked onlookers recognized him. Which made this whole scenario that much more demeaning.

Thankfully, the song came to an end just as Ciel felt his restraint slipping. Once the raven man released his tiny hand, the boy fell to one knee, his chest heaving desperately. The raven man kneeled so that he was almost eye level with the teen and lifted the boy's head with his hand.

"It was a pleasure to dance with you, young master," he said with that hateful smile before kissing the boy's hand and disappearing so quickly that, for a moment, Ciel thought he had imagined the whole thing. But, looking around at his peers, he realized it was all very real. Suddenly, he was being pulled up onto his feet by his Aunt Red.

"Ciel, are you alright? What are doing on the floor?" she asked her nephew, who was still struggling to breathe. He pointed to his chest, hoping she would catch on that he was having some breathing problems. "Is it your asthma?" He nodded. "Well, what on earth were you dancing for?" He scowled again.

"Ladies and gentleman, I thank you all for such a wonderful evening!" The host, Viscount Druitt, screamed from his perch on a second floor balcony. "Unfortunately, the night has now come to an end, I wish you all a safe and pleasant trip home." The attendants clapped and began the trek to their carriages. Ciel searched frantically for the raven man, but he was nowhere to be found. In that moment, the boy vowed to himself that he would track down that foolish fowl. Such humiliation as this could not go unpunished. A Phantomhive never loses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Please comment if you have the time! Thank you for reading! ^w^


	2. Ginger Snaps

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: cross dressing, some harsh language

"No! You are not even holding zee bow correctly!" Ciel Phantomhive's violin tutor screamed, smacking his pupil's slender fingers with his wooden pointer, "Right thumb between zee winding of zee bow and zee frog. Not to mention, you are playing far too quickly. Zee Chaconne is in three four time. . . What's your hurry boy? Oi, enfants impatients." The man muttered in his thick French accent. 

Ciel hated this man. All the boy wanted was to feast upon a sizeable piece of chocolate cake that he had ordered for lunch. The sooner this lesson came to an end, the sooner he could indulge in his sweet gluttony. There was little point in all of this nonsense anyway. When was he ever going to utilize these skills? And if this man whacked him in his knuckles one more time, he swore he would stab him in the eyes. Undignified it may be, but Ciel Phantomhive wasn't above murder. . .

Just as Ciel was returning to reality, his aunt came sauntering into his study, a perplexed expression painted on her youthful face. Her nephew and his tutor turned to face her, both of them clearly quite annoyed with one another.

"How is my nephew's practice coming along, Monsieur Bourque?" The man glanced at the boy, an irritated twitch in his brow, then turned back to the woman in red.

"He is 'orrible. Zere is no teaching zis child! He refuses to follow my instruczion!" The French man screamed in frustration. Madame Red sighed, glaring at her nephew, who just turned to look at the wall opposite them.

"Ciel," she said, a chastising tone about her voice, "This is getting tiresome. Please, stop being so difficult. It is important for an Earl to be well versed in many things. These lessons are necessary." Ciel didn't say a word, only scowled, as he always did when she tried to scold him about his lifestyle. "Now finish up your lessons, without putting up such a fuss. We have business to tend to this afternoon." She began to leave before Ciel shouted after her.

"What business?!" He asked, truly annoyed in learning that his planned afternoon of relaxation was no longer thus. She turned back to face him.

"Don't you remember? We have a luncheon with a few of my more influential associates." Ciel most certainly did not remember this. In fact, he's certain she never even told him about it. She had a nasty habit of just dragging him to her engagements. When was she going to get it through her thick fucking skull that he is not the social butterfly she wants him to be? Something in his head snapped. He _could_ not and _would_ not stand for such insolence in _his_ house. Family or not, it was not going to continue like this.

"No, Aunt Ann! I do not remember. Primarily because you never gave me notice. I have had enough of your damn coddling! I am not going to this luncheon, nor am I going to attend any other ridiculous party you wish to drag me to! I despise them and I refuse to engage in conversation with such ignorant pawns any longer!" He spat venomously, crossing his arms in defiance once he felt he had made his point clear. The scarlet lady stared, wide eyed, at her young nephew. She did have to admit she was impressed by his resolve and courage. But it didn't change the fact that she was his legal guardian.

"Is that so?" She said slyly, making Ciel regret his temper, if only for just a moment.

"Absolutely," he confirmed. She smirked.

"I will not tolerate my thirteen year old nephew taking such a discourteous tone with me. You are in no position to make your own decisions, Ciel Phantomhive. I'm afraid I have to punish you for such vulgarity." Though her words were threatening, her tone was somewhat calm, apologetic even.

"Really? Well, send me to my bedchamber then," Ciel retorted. She lowered her head and shook it gently, chuckling a bit at Ciel's sudden ignorance.

"No Ciel, sending you to your room wouldn't be a punishment. It's exactly what you want me to do." Well, apparently the woman was not as thick as Ciel seemed to deem her. "I have a better idea. . ."

"Hm," Ciel said with a grin, "Really? Is that supposed to scare me? Honestly, there is no punishment you can give me that will make me sorry for what I said." Her red lips just stretched into a sadistic smirk.

* * *

 

A shimmering black carriage rolled to a gentle stop outside a beautiful colonial manor just outside London. Once it came to a halt, the coachman stepped down from the perch and opened the doors for the passengers. The first to emerge was the radiant Madame Red, wearing a fluffy red dress, accented with elegant black lace. She pulled out a hand held fan made of red feathers and waved it about in the humid July air.

 "Come now Ciel, you can't sit in the carriage all night, you'll swelter in there. It's much cooler inside," she said teasingly. The young Earl stepped out of the carriage bitterly, cursing his insipid aunt for punishing him in such a way. 

As his heeled boots met the cold cobblestone, delicate white lace and lavish powder pink velvet fell gracefully around them. The dress his aunt squeezed him into was, as she tried to explain, chosen to contrast his own cool colour scheme. She placed a long, slate coloured, pigtailed wig upon his head and topped it off with a pink, flowered hat. He growled at her in absolute hatred.

"Darling, it's not very lady like to growl," she added with a frown.

"Are you insane?! If anyone recognizes me, my family name will be ruined!" He screamed, no longer able to keep his volume down. She looked down at him sincerely.

"Well, then you will have to be extra careful not to reveal your true identity." What an insufferable woman. . .

They continued up the cobblestone path and strutted into the manor. Ciel was thankful he had been wearing heels to mask his height for as long as he had. If not for that fact, he would be tripping over himself. Instead, he was able to stride sumptuously across the grand foyer, drawing glances from more than a few men, despite his small size. ' _How disgusting_ ,' he thought.

He broke away from his talkative aunt to stand, awkwardly, at a table. . . full of sweets, of course. If he had to endure this torture, he was at least going to get something out of it. He eyed the selection as if he'd stumbled upon the lost city of Atlantis. The only real redeemable thing about being a noble was the abundance of sweets at your disposal. From across the room, he heard a vaguely familiar high pitched squeal.

"Hey, you in the pink dress!" ' _Oh, god no, it's Elizabeth_.' How could his aunt not have known she was going to be in attendance. Surely she'll recognize him! He tried to slump down so that she couldn't see him but she was staring straight at him as he did it, so the point was moot. "Are you alright?!" She screamed, even though she was close enough for him to hear her at normal volume. He stood, pretending he hadn't seen her. The only chance he had now was to hope she was dim enough not to recognize him.

"I'm fine," he hummed merrily, forcing his surprisingly low voice to adopt a higher pitch. He thought it sounded a bit strained, but his cousin and wife-to-be didn't seem to notice. "I just had to adjust my boot. Is there something you wanted?" He wore a convincing smile, that would certainly charm even the most curmudgeonly of gentleman. Elizabeth giggled happily.

"Not really. I saw your gown and thought it was simply adorable. I wanted a closer look at it. . ." She said, stopping a moment to visually examine the gown in question. Ciel stood still, nervously awaiting her approval. "My goodness, it's even more amazing up close!" she announced. Ciel giggled in response.

"Thank you very much. Yours is lovely too." It was difficult to feign interest in Elizabeth's dress, especially when Ciel actually found it to be quite offensive. Its bright pink colour was more than just kind of hideous. Ciel has always preferred cool colours, blues in particular. Elizabeth beamed at her new friend.

"Thank you so much! You are so pretty!" She said loudly, staring now at Ciel's face. Part of it was covered by shaggy bangs. At least he could take comfort in the fact that she couldn't see his face in full, otherwise he'd be done for. "I just love your hair, it's so. . . you know, you look very familiar. What's your name?" ' _Damn!'_

The young Earl searched desperately for something to grasp onto. A name. . . any name. He glanced down at the table, spotting all sorts of cookies. Closest to him was a pile of ginger snaps.

"Ginger," he said with confidence. If he wavered at all she might get suspicious.

"Oh, how rude of me! My name is Elizabeth Midford, but you can call me Lizzy. It's a pleasure to meet you Ginger," she said, offering Ciel a curtsy. ' _Curtsy. . . right.'_

"Same to you, Lizzy," Ciel nodded, before kneeling into an ungraceful curtsy. ' _That could've gone a bit more smoothly. . .'_ Ciel thought. Lizzy giggled at her new friend's awkward attempt.

"Hm, I don't think we've ever met. You do look like someone I know though, I can't really place who. . ." She brought her hand to her chin and stood there in deep thought for, what seemed to Ciel, to be an eternity. "Ah! I know," she finally shrieked, "you look a lot like my fiancée. I don't mean to say you look like a boy. . . He's very pretty, you see!" ' _She couldn't possibly be that ignorant, could she? Oh well, it's working in_ _my favour, I won't complain.'_

"Really? How strange. Who is this fiancée of yours?" Ciel asked, in hopes of changing the subject. Perhaps if she didn't think about it too much, she would be none the wiser. Once again, Lizzy beamed. Her new friend was such a kindred spirit!

"Ciel Phantomhive, have you heard of him? He's the head of his family now. Well, he will be soon anyway. Right now he's in the care of his aunt, since he's still under-age and what have you. Then, once he inherits his family's fortune, we'll be married. Then we'll have lots of children. I've already picked out their names and everything. But Ciel doesn't know that. I don't even know if he wants kids, but you know, it's unheard of for nobles such as us not to bear children. But once we have. . . . ."

She continued to babble on about Ciel, unknowingly right to the boy's face. He had long since tuned her out. Honestly, did this girl ever stop talking? And what is all this nonsense about children? He'd have to be sure to make it clear he is unwilling to have children until at least his mid twenties, if at all.

Back to the issue at hand though, how was he going to get himself out of this mess. If he stayed any longer, there was the possibility that she would figure out that her new friend, Ginger, doesn't just share an uncanny resemblance to her cousin. He would be doomed for sure.

Just then, he spotted a way out. The host of the party, Earl Grey, a preferred lackey of Her Majesty, was chatting with a couple of other gentlemen, looking rather bored with a lollipop hanging lazily out of the side of his mouth. Ciel waited patiently for Lizzy to stop talking so that he may excuse himself.

"You know what I mean? So, are you betrothed?" the girl with the golden banana curls concluded. Ciel, or rather Ginger, looked up at her with a smile.

"No. Not yet anyway. I hope to find a nice nobleman worthy of my love soon," Ginger chirped happily, but Ciel shuttered internally at his own disturbing declaration, "But if you'll excuse me, I have yet to meet our host in person. It would be rude of me not to introduce myself. It was lovely meeting you Lizzy." With that, Ciel glided away; his long, flowing slate coloured pigtails billowing behind him.

Once he thought he was out of Elizabeth's line of vision, he ducked behind another snack table, this one's contents much less fattening than the last one he used as refuge. What was his daft aunt thinking bringing him to a public affair dressed like this? What was he going to do? If he stayed here someone was bound to recognize him. It wasn't like him to resort to begging, but this torture was much worse. So, he did the only thing he could think of. He tip-toed over to his aunt, who was laughing with a group of single gentleman. _That woman is such a flirt. . ._

"Alright, Aunt Ann, I'm infinitely sorry. I promise, I'll attend any party you wish me to, as long as I can dress the way I choose and we can leave here _now._ So please, can we just go?" the young cross dresser pleaded. She seemed to ponder it for a moment.

"Alright. As long as you've learned your lesson. And you have to stop being so difficult with your tutors," she added. Ciel grunted.

"Fine. I'll be more cooperative, can we go now?" It was so unseemly to beg. It was an outrage that Ciel would ever be reduced to a grovelling fool. Angelina Durless just became another name on Ciel Phantomhive's list of undesirables. He wondered to himself if she knew exactly how furious she'd made him.

"Well gentleman, if you'll excuse me, my poor little niece is quite tired. I must be getting her home now," Madame Red announced, taking Ciel's arm and leading him toward the door. Ciel tried to stay low, in hopes that Elizabeth would not spot him leaving and try to say goodbye. They made it out of the manor with little interruption.

Later, in his plush bed, Ciel was left to stew in his rage. Who did she think she was? His father never would have stood for this. Why should he? And just like that, there were two people that had humiliated and degraded him. Which, in turn, meant that there were now two people that he owed a great deal of revenge to. He festered in anger for a good portion of the night before his tiny body grew too exhausted and he fell into a deep slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Ciel is just a little bundle of hate. Thanks for reading guys! Comment if you have the time please! Thanks!
> 
> Also, before anyone asks, the reason Ciel is tolerating his aunt's attitude (something we all know he wouldn't actually do) is because, as stated, she is his guardian in this story. Therefore, he is not yet the real head of his house, despite the frequent use of the title "Earl".


	3. Unforeseen Possibilities

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: more cynicism (not just from Ciel this time) XD

As he did every morning, the Earl Phantomhive found himself at his desk thumbing through factory reports and production documents. However, his mind was floating about elsewhere. It had been for several days now. It was very difficult to keep one's focus when revenge was involved. That raven masked fellow would pay for the humiliation he had caused, Ciel thought as he glanced distractedly out the window. That insipid aunt of his would certainly get a taste of his vengeance as well. She's just incredibly lucky that no one had recognized him at that party.

The only problem vexing the poor boy was the somewhat important matter of finding the raven man. He had been pondering the situation for days, yet to no avail. How exactly would he obtain revenge on someone he would likely never see again? _'Perhaps it would behoove me to rethink my strategy,'_ the boy thought. Still, no matter how much he reworked it in his head, he came up empty. There was still the matter of Elizabeth, as well. Almost as if on cue, his housemaid came staggering in his study, looking every bit like a startled meerkat.

"Young Mastah! It's your aunt! She wants ta speak with you immediately!" The young woman screeched, every syllable making Ciel cringe irritably.

"Tell her I'm busy, I can't be bothered with Madame Red's nonsense right now," He commanded. 

"Oh no, sir. Not Madame Durless, the Marchioness Midford," the red haired maid clarified. Ciel's eyes shot open in a hasty panic. What in the world could his Aunt Francis want? What's more, is that she didn't even give him notice. Apparently the apple doesn't fall too far from the tree in that regard, Elizabeth often just invited herself to the manor without any notice.

"Lunch is ready, Mastah. We've set an extra place for your aunt as well," the maid chirped, her spectacles glinting in the sunlight. Ciel just sighed in response, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger.

Still, constraining himself to rise and and greet his unannounced visitor, Ciel did that which was expected of him. Such is the life of a nobleman, always partaking in unwanted situations for the sake of manners. Upon entering the garden, he noticed that his dear Aunt Francis was criticizing his gardener, Finny, for looking like a vagabond. He cleared his throat to get her attention. Once he obtained it, he was bombarded with his aunt's attempts to make him look presentable.

Contrary to her brother's careful treatment of the boy, Francis wasn't the type to coddle or handle with care. She saw Ciel, not as a piece of glass, but as a boy in need of discipline. She slicked her nephew's hair back and straightened his posture, scowling all the while.

"Good morning to you as well, Aunt Francis," Ciel said sarcastically.

"Come now, Ciel, sarcasm is unbecoming of a gentleman. One mustn't come across as having too much wit, you wouldn't want to be compared to that fool; Oscar Wilde. " she grumbled, clearly not amused.

"Of course. Please, join me for tea," he replied (quite bitterly, seeing as he, like most young socialites, rather appreciated the wit of the aforementioned writer), gesturing to Finny, who was pulling back a chair for her to sit in. She took the offer. "So, what brings you to my manor this afternoon, Aunt Francis?" He was desperately hoping it had nothing to do with his engagement, the last thing he really wanted to think about at the moment was a marriage to a woman with whom he had absolutely nothing in common.

"It's about Elizabeth actually," Francis confirmed. Ciel felt his heart sink, knowing that his hope of avoiding the subject of marriage was completely hopeless. To his surprise though, her request was something all together different than anything he was expecting.

"What about my dearest cousin?" He asked, feigning curiosity.

"You must have heard about her attendance at Earl Grey's ball Tuesday last," Francis began. Ciel nodded, sipping his mediocre tea, prepared by his mediocre chef. "While at that ball, she made a friend. A friend she has not stopped talking about ever since that night. I'm sure she must have mentioned her name to you."

"Ginger, yes?" Ciel asked, trying his hardest to remain calm. Inside, his nerves were ablaze. Elizabeth may have been oblivious to his charade, but Francis wouldn't be. Perhaps she was already on to him.

"Indeed. Well, this mysterious Ginger is nowhere to be found. I've spoken to dozens of people at that ball. None of them know who she is, not even Earl Grey," Francis further explained. Ciel's heart began racing. He was certain she knew the truth.

"How very odd," he said, raising an eyebrow.

"What I need from you, dear nephew, is for you to locate her. Elizabeth is desperate to see her again. You are very good at tracking people down with little more than a name. Can you find her?" It was in that one sentence that Ciel realized, he would have to wear that bloody dress again.

"Of course, Aunt Francis. Locating a girl couldn't be too difficult," he said with a smirk. Even though all he could think about was how obnoxious this whole situation had become. Rather than refuse his aunt, however, Ciel concluded that it would be far more convenient and much safer to simply agree to her ridiculous request.

"Wonderful!" Francis declared, before standing and retrieving her hat, "I expect to know her whereabouts by the end of next week. Now, if you'll excuse me, Ciel, I must be off. Oh, and please do take better care to make your staff more presentable. Honestly, child, you are going to be an Earl soon," she ranted as she made her way to leave. Ciel stood, listening to her drivel on about his propriety (or lack thereof), as he escorted her to her carriage.

Once she had taken her leave, the exhausted nobleman sighed and retreated back to the garden for lunch. After which, he took a calming refuge in his private study, making sure to lock the door behind him, so as not to be disturbed.

He knew that revenge had to be swift for his wretched Aunt Red, who was the cause of all of his current problems. Why the devil couldn't she just let him be? He sat back down at his desk and tried his hardest to resume his work. The boy soon learned, though, that concentration was far from his friend at the moment. His mind wandered, uncharacteristically, from the subject of Elizabeth and Ginger to the raven man.

Ginger, as it turns out, was becoming a much bigger problem than he anticipated. It had been his intention to simply listen to Lizzy babble on about his unwanted alter-ego until she, inevitably, got distracted by something else and forgot about her. Which surely would have worked perfectly, if not for his aunt sticking her (relatively large and pointed) nose into her daughter's affairs. Francis, rather unlike Elizabeth, was far from a fool. It would only be a matter of time before she discovered his little secret.

The fact was, strings would need to be pulled in order to get rid of Ginger once and for all. But killing her wouldn't be an acceptable method of disposal. Surely Ciel could manage it, but then he would only drown his fiancée in sorrow, for God only knows how long. All over a girl that doesn't even exist. There simply had to be another way to go about this.

Not to mention, he still owed a great deal of retribution to his insipid Aunt Red and that horribly offensive fowl of a fellow. All things for which he, at the present, had no solution. He sat there, staring rather blankly at his inventory reports, wracking his brain for a brilliant plan of action. Just as that morning, he found that he had none.

For twenty whole minutes, the young man sat, nothing close to a coherent plan rutting around in his head. Until, finally, he was struck with a plan to do away with two of his problems at once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This chapter is a bit lacking in plot. Don't worry though, it does pick up soon. Anyway, we catch up with our mysterious raven man (I wonder who he could be? XD) and see what he's been up to in the next chapter. Please comment if you have the time. Thanks!


	4. Troubling Times

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Uhm. . . Grell. XD

Deep in a secluded office within a manor across London, sat a dark haired man with scarlet eyes, which were fixed on finances he could no longer pay an accountant to look after. Each month that passed brought with it less and less business. There was much that the man had to lament, and even more to dread. Lamenting was all he found himself doing these days, in fact. There were very few things he had to look forward to. But, it wasn't in his nature to give up or to admit defeat. He was a fighter, just as his father had been before him.

In the midst of his distress, his loyal (if not, a bit annoying) butler came rushing clumsily into his office, screaming the man's name in his shrill tone. This startled his troubled master and caused him to jolt up, smashing his kneecaps on the underside of his desk.

"Dammit Grell!" the man howled, rubbing his knees, "What's so urgent that you have to interrupt my bookkeeping?" The red haired butler reached into his front pocket and retrieved a letter, one which had already been removed from its envelope.

"I forgot, this letter came for you while you were in town yesterday, my lord. It's from the Marchioness Midford," the flamboyant butler explained as he placed the letter on his master's desk. The dark haired man picked it up, rolling his eyes in mild irritation at his butler's uncouth habit of reading his letters before giving them to him.

_'Dear Sir Sebastian Michaelis, The Marquess Midford would be most honoured to receive you and, if you so wish, one guest at his manor for a night of entertainment and frivolous joy Saturday next; where there is to be held a masquerade ball. We greatly anticipate your attendance. Sincerely, Marchioness Midford.'_

"Hmm, a masquerade, eh? That sounds promising indeed. Grell, send a letter to the Marquess straight away. Tell him I shall be in attendance," Grell nodded frantically and began scurrying away. "Oh, don't forget to thank him and his wife for the invitation," Sebastian screamed into the empty air, hoping the useless butler heard him.

After the chaos had dissipated, he attempted to get back to work. He couldn't quite shake free the thought of his suffering business. Instead, he tried to focus on thoughts of the masquerade. He did fancy himself a nice masquerade. Many saw him as a bit of an eccentric fellow. Feathers, frills, beads and excessive obscurity intrigued him in ways he couldn't quite articulate. It was one of the few pleasures he had left. For the remainder of the morning, Sebastian sat in contemplation of what might occur on this night of mystery.

Once the clock struck noon, Sebastian settled in with his tea and lunch. Afterwards, he went into town to finish a few mundane tasks. When he finally returned home, he was greeted by his butler, who initially seemed to be in a better mood than usual. It wasn't long before Sebastian found out why.

"Sir, I'm quite sorry for the intrusion," Sebastian heard from the sitting room entrance, which was situated behind him. He turned around to face the source of the voice, one which he knew well.

"Not at all, Mr. Spears. What brings you here, is there a problem at the factory?" Sebastian asked, internally groaning at the sight of his guest. William Spears was his underling, the man that he had (regretfully) employed to oversee the workers in his factory. As much as he despised him, William was the only man he knew of who was qualified for the job, unless Sebastian himself wanted to give up his life in society to work in the factory; needless to say, he did not.

"Well, yes, in fact there is," the bespectacled man began, "I don't think I need to tell you that our sales are down. Even lower than last month. In fact, we've only sold two wheels. If things continue this way, the company will surely find itself bankrupt." Sebastian groaned irritably, this was the last thing he needed to hear right now.

"Well what do you propose we do about it?" he practically snarled at his, already stressed, employee.

"Honestly, I'm not sure there is much we can do. Most textile and engine factories are switching over to steam power. It's safer and more efficient. Maybe we should consider moving out to the countryside," William offered.

"Yes, we'll certainly have more sales out in the middle of nowhere. Honestly, Mr. Spears. There's no need to get desperate," Sebastian began, replacing his panicked gaze with a collected smile, "Don't worry yourself over it, we've simply hit a dry spell, that's all. Just watch, by the end of the season we'll have millers from the North begging for business."

"But sir. . ." William protested.

"We are finished discussing this, Mr. Spears. You should get back to the factory, surely the workers are missing you," his boss suggested, clearly deriving a little pleasure from the control he had over him. William let his shoulders fall in defeat, knowing well that arguing with the man was futile. It should be said that he wanted nothing more than to argue. Sebastian rarely, if ever, saw the factory. William, however, saw it every day. The blood, sweat, and tears of the workers, he saw it all first-hand. He also saw how few of their products seem to be making it out of the factory.

"Yes, sir," he said, with a curt bow, "Good day to you." With that, he turned and walked to the front door, where he passed a very distracted Grell. The red headed butler blushed and swooned as William nodded in his direction, a polite gesture that Grell couldn't help but read too much into. Every time Will was around, Grell found himself lost in admiration and lust. Once his monochromatic love had gone, Grell lurched into the great chamber, where his master had gone off to think.

"My Lord?" the butler ventured, knowing that he was treading on thin ice. "I'm sorry for eavesdropping, but don't you think you should take Will's concerns seriously?" Sebastian's head, which had been resting in his palms, shot up and glared at his inquirer.

"Really, Grell, some manners would be appreciated. . ." The red head seemed only slightly put off by his master's words. "But no, I don't think I should take him seriously. They're the ramblings of a madman. Not to mention, even if sales plummet, I have reserves. Enough to make up for any loss in profit for the next six months. There is nothing to worry about," Sebastian assured. It wasn't enough to ease Grell's fears. He could tell, though, that the subject was making Sebastian quite upset. So, he let it go. Opting, instead, to talk about something he knew Sebastian would be eager to discuss.

"So, what do you plan to wear to the masquerade?" He asked, a sharp toothed smirk stretching across his face. Indeed, the topic did seem to make his master perk up a bit.

"I suppose I should wear my double-breasted tailcoat. The one with the peaked lapel. Perhaps I'll don my feathered black rose pin as well," he pondered, mostly to himself.

"Oh, I love the way you look in that tailcoat, my Lord!" Grell proclaimed, "Will you be wanting your raven mask as well?"

"Of course. It wouldn't be a proper masquerade if I wore anything else. I am looking forward to it," Sebastian said with a sadistic grin. Grell found himself screeching rather ungracefully at the thought of his beautiful master in his mysterious raven disguise. The sound struck Sebastian's ears, making him yearn for some peace.

"Alright, off you go, Grell. Carry on with your duties," he demanded, shooing the obnoxious fellow with a wave of his hand. Grell complied, giggling to himself as he skipped out of the great chamber. Sebastian was left with his thoughts, and thanks to Grell, they weren't thoughts of massive financial failure. Rather, they were thoughts of a small, blue eyed angel; one he knew he would see this Saturday. And he simply couldn't wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thanks for reading! Please comment if you have the time. Thanks!
> 
> Also: Sebastian's line of work is indeed important to the story. Exactly what it is he does will be explained. XD


	5. Strangers Reunited

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: mild language

It was the night of the Midford masquerade ball, only a couple weeks before the end of the 'Season,' which was rather timely. The fact that there were so many attendees actually worked in Ciel's favour. That meant that there would be more of a crowd in which he could blend. It would make it slightly more difficult to locate the dark clad stranger that he so wished to destroy, but he'd make due. The one regret the boy had was that his revenge upon his Aunt Red would be the only thing left unsatisfied. That was going to have to wait until after his eighteenth birthday. He wouldn't want to upset her too much. After all, she did hold in her vile hands every last one of his assets.

So, rather than seek out his revenge upon her, he enlisted her assistance, as she was the only one who could know the truth about Ginger's existence. The woman, adorned in scarlet (as per usual), pulled and tugged at an already tight corset, which had been squeezing the life out of the boy for the better half of fifteen minutes. It wasn't the first time, Ciel would regret to admit, that he had been forced to don the vice-like apparatus. Being a woman certainly wasn't easy.

"Ah! Bloody hell! How tight does it need to be?" the boy yelped as she pulled the strings tighter still.

"Oh, stop whining. It isn't so bad. Just a bit. . . tighter," she grunted, giving the corset one final tug and tying the strings tightly, before helping Ciel into his petticoat. When the dress had finally been assembled, she got busy on his hair and painting his face. It was going to be a battlefield out there. Of this Ciel could be quite certain. First, was the matter of Ginger. Once that was out of the way, he had a raven to find.

"Darling, why is that you wanted to wear a dress again?" Madame Red asked, slightly amused. Ciel scoffed.

"As I said earlier, I don't _want_ to wear it, I bloody _have_ to wear it, thanks to you," he said.

"Me? How is this my doing?" she asked, rearing back in confusion.

"Had you not forced me to go to that damn ball in that ridiculous gown, I wouldn't need to convince Elizabeth that I am a woman," he tried to explain, not really even realizing exactly how unclear his account was.

"Why on Earth would you need to convince Elizabeth that you're a woman?" she chuckled.

"Oh, never mind. Just finish up. I've got quite a lot of work to do out there," he demanded.

So as not to raise suspicions with Elizabeth, he wore a different dress; this time one of emerald green and consisting of silver embellishments, complete with a silver half mask, in the shape of a rabbit. He made his way to the back door unnoticed, where he crept around to the side of the manor so that he may hop into a carriage which had been lying in wait for him. Once inside, he ordered his chef, Bard, (who was acting as his stand-in coachman) to pull around to the front of the manor.

To anyone on the outside, it would have appeared as though the dashing, Ginger had just arrived to the Midford manor, looking quite radiant indeed. Once he stepped out of the carriage, he was escorted to the ballroom, where the party had already begun. A good handful of British nobles had been invited. Ciel only hoped that the raven man was among them. It wasn't long before he spotted Elizabeth, chatting pleasantly with the congregation, though seemingly distracted. He could only guess why. So, he waited. Before long, Elizabeth noticed him and made her way across the ballroom with gusto.

"Ginger!" she screamed, although (once again) she was close enough for Ciel to hear her at normal volume.

"Lady Elizabeth, how very good to see you again," Ciel cooed, raising his voice an octave, trying his damnedest to keep it from sounding too fake. "I've been searching for you all night."

"Oh, how very sweet. I've been searching for you for weeks! And do call me Lizzy, please!" ' _Oh, that didn't sound incredibly alarming or stalker-esque in any way. Leave it to Elizabeth to be so shamelessly blunt,'_ Ciel thought.

"Of course, it's been so long, I'd forgotten you prefer Lizzy," Ciel giggled.

"Oh, goodness me! I love your dress! I'm not the biggest fan of green myself, but it looks great on you! I do wear it sometimes but it's just not a very good colour for. . ." she ranted. Ciel tried his hardest to keep his focus on what she was saying, as these are the kinds of things that hold a woman's interest.

The night continued to dance away, and with it all of Ciel's hopes of locating the raven man. But dammit all if he wasn't going to keep searching. As Elizabeth rambled on about frivolities and Ciel himself, the boy was peering about the dance floor in search of a tall, statuesque raven.

When finally, he prevailed. There he stood, his iridescent plumage glistening in shades of navy and violet under the glow of the chandelier. He was making himself busy by dancing a waltz with a beautiful yellow haired woman. Well, by all accounts she was beautiful, however, Ciel found her to be quite garish. _'Honestly, he'll just dance with anyone, won't he? He is so infuriating,'_ he thought bitterly.

He then decided that it was of no particular importance with whom the man chose to dance. All that really mattered was that he had danced with him, in public. The humiliation he suffered would not go unpunished. It was time to retire Ginger for good. The sooner he could get out of that dress and over to the raven man, the sooner he could exact his revenge. There was no telling when the man would just up and vanish, as he so liked to do.

"Lizzy, I have a confession," Ciel began, feigning sadness, "I came here tonight to see you again. However, there is another reason I'm here." Elizabeth looked on, her brows furrowing in worry.

"What is it, Ginger?" she asked solemnly.

"I. . . I came to say goodbye," Ciel said, taking Elizabeth by the hand.

"What?! Why would you need to say goodbye?!" she screamed, tears welling up in her eyes.

"It's my father, you see. His company has been doing so well, it has expanded to the States. We are to leave for America tomorrow afternoon. Once I received your invitation, I begged father to delay the trip so that I might see you one last time before we depart," he explained skilfully.

"No, but you mustn't leave! We've only just met!" Elizabeth wailed. Ciel suppressed a cringe.

"I'm so sorry dearest Lizzy. I must. I promise to write to you," with that, Ciel reached out and gave his fiancée a tight hug. Once he released her, he looked her in the eyes and felt nothing but guilt for causing her to cry so heavily. "I have to go now, Lizzy. You will hear from me again soon." He then turned on his heel and ran as fast as he could out of the ballroom. He sprinted down the hall, ignoring Elizabeth's cries for Ginger. He could hear that she was running after him, so he took refuge in one of the bedrooms and waited for her to pass. Once he was certain she was gone, he emerged, gasping for breath. Only a moment later, he was startled to hear a very deep and familiar voice chirping pleasantly behind him.

"Hello there, my Lady," the raven man said. Ciel slowly turned to face him, terrified that he would recognize him. "I must say, your gown is just lovely," he complimented. Ciel was unsure if he was being sarcastic or not. After thinking on it for a moment, he decided there was no possible way that the man could recognize him, especially not while he's wearing his mask.

"Thank you kindly, sir," Ginger replied.

"Would the Lady like an escort back to the grand ballroom?" the man asked, holding his hand out for Ciel to take.

"Actually, I was heading out to get a breath of fresh air," Ciel said, fanning himself with his hand. He couldn't risk going back into the ballroom with Elizabeth roaming around. Additionally, he was afraid to let the man out of his sight, worried that perhaps he would slip off into the night and never be seen again. "I wouldn't mind an escort to the courtyard, if you would be so kind," Ciel added, placing his hand atop the raven's.

"I'd be most honoured," he affirmed, leading them out toward the courtyard. Ciel felt much more confident about evading Elizabeth out there. They both took a seat on a stone bench beside a long hedge of roses. The scent certainly was pungent. Ciel wanted to use the opportunity to try and get what he needed out of the man he so resented. Before he managed, however, the raven man did all the work for him.

"Might the Lady be so gracious as to give a gentleman her name?" he asked politely. ' _Oh lovely, another person who will be privy to Ginger.'_

"Ginger Pickett, sir," Ciel lied. He could see the raven man's eyes widen a bit from within his onyx mask.

"Such a lovely name, Lady Pickett. Quite exotic indeed," he finally replied. Ciel giggled, internally hating himself for having to do it so many times in one night.

"Yes, my parents are quite the eccentric lot. And what of you, mysterious raven, what do they call you?" He asked merrily.

"I can't tell you that, Lady Pickett. This is a masquerade, after all," he said, waving his index finger about in the air.

"Oh, come now. I told you my name. Besides which, it is horribly ungentlemanly to deny a lady your name," he pleaded. The man was being far more difficult about this matter than Ciel had thought he would be. It seemed as though the man was prepared to answer his question, but before he had the chance, the loud, shrill voice of Elizabeth rang out about the courtyard; screaming desperately for Ginger's return. Though he was seething on the inside, he was forced to pretend he was concerned about Elizabeth's cries.

"Oh, do excuse me, sir. That is my dear friend, Elizabeth calling me. I should go to her," Ciel said before running off in haste. Though he ran in the direction of Elizabeth's voice, he quickly took a detour once he was out of the raven's line of sight.

Instead, he ran back into the ballroom, grabbed his Aunt Red, and hurried inside a guest room, where he had laid out his own masquerade attire to change into. As she helped him out of his gown and corset, he thought to himself; ' _This night isn't going at all the way I had planned. . . and it isn't even over yet.'_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hope you guys liked it. Please comment if you have the time. Thanks so much for reading!


	6. Midnight Melody

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: none

Earl Ciel Phantomhive, with the help of his wretched aunt, was now back to his old self. Rather than an emerald gown, he now wore a crushed velvet frock of midnight blue, complete with black stockings and his own heeled boots, as well as the very same gold mask he wore to the last masquerade he attended. The raven man would be sure to recognize him now. (Not that he wouldn't have been able to without the mask)

He then made his way back down to the ballroom, making sure to avoid his fiancée. Should she spot him, she will spend the entire night haunting him and crying about Ginger. He simply didn't have the time for that. He could only be thankful that Ginger was gone and he no longer had to concern himself with her.

For nearly a half hour Ciel searched. He even returned to the courtyard, but the raven man was nowhere to be seen. He wondered, if perhaps he had run off again. It wouldn't be a surprise, he'd done it before. However, Ciel concluded that he simply couldn't have left; the evening was still too young. So, he persisted in his search.

While scouring the corridors, Ciel was startled when a frigid hand reached out and grasped his wrist, pulling him backwards, toward his assaulter. He almost screamed, merely out of surprise, but he somehow managed to suppress it.

"There you are, little butterfly. I was wondering when I'd see you again," the raven grinned, taking Ciel's hand and placing a chaste kiss atop it. The boy was, once again, quite embarrassed by the man's outward and unashamed form of affection. Ciel reclaimed his hand with a forceful tug.

"Hello again. What, might I ask, are you doing wandering about the corridors of the Marquess' manor?" the boy demanded.

"I was simply using the lavatory. What of yourself?" the raven replied, without hesitation.

"I feel no desire to answer that," Ciel countered. As if this night hadn't gone badly enough? Now Ciel found himself in a position where the ghastly fowl had the advantage. The next move, as much as Ciel hated to admit it, was in the hands of his adversary.

"I've so been looking forward to our meeting this evening, won't you walk with me?" the man asked, a smile stretched across his ghostly face. (or, what little Ciel could see of it, anyway) A walk would indeed be an opportunity to win the game, presuming he could turn the tables.

"Very well, let us retire to the courtyard then." It would be the second time Ciel would traverse the Midford's courtyard with the raven man that night. ' _How very annoying. Oh well, it can't be helped, I suppose,'_ the boy thought spitefully.

The pair made their way to the courtyard and continued to stroll, casually, down the stone path that ran through it. Neither spoke a word for a few minutes. They just walked, side by side, in silence. The raven man's mind fixed upon how delighted he felt to be in the boy's presence again, while Ciel's mind could only focus on how to go about his next move. Finally, he decided.

"So tell me, why is it that you are so keen to see me again? You don't even know who I am," the boy asked, a bit unsure if he was making a dire mistake. The raven's first response was simply a joyous chuckle.

"Don't be so naïve, Ciel Phantomhive, I know precisely who you are," he finally managed to say through his mild laughter. Ciel couldn't say that he was surprised. He wasn't really as naïve as the raven had accused him of being. Rather, he just wanted to be sure the man knew who he was toying with. Though, the infuriating avian's laughter at his expense further boiled the Earl's blood.

"So, you know me then. Whereas, I haven't the slightest idea who you might be. Perhaps you wouldn't mind enlightening me?" the boy ventured. The raven's smile only grew wider.

"You know, Lord Phantomhive, I've heard some wonderful things about you," he began. Ciel's heart sank deeper into his chest. It was unthinkable that this beast could know so much about him and yet he, Ciel; the master of games, know so little about his challenger. It almost made him sick, in fact. "One being, that you are quite the intellectual. I'm sure you could certainly figure that out on your own," the dark haired man concluded. Ciel absolutely had to turn the tables, this game was beginning to get rather unnerving.

"Yes, I suppose I could. If I honestly cared to," Ciel replied with a sly smile.

"You don't care to?" the raven asked.

"Of course not. I've got much more important things to worry about than the identity of a man I've only encountered twice," The Earl retorted, sounding every bit like the man's question had offended him.

"You mean to say, you're not the least bit curious?"

"Well, perhaps a little. But I doubt I would recognize you even if you did reveal your name and face to me. After all, you couldn't be that high on the social ladder if I don't recognize you now," Ciel scoffed, using his status to intimidate the audacious man.

"You're quite right, my Lord. I am not nearly as influential and important as, say, a toymaker," the raven teased. Ciel wanted to be offended, but he found that he rather enjoyed the man's joke. It was clear that it was meant in a playful manner and came across as. . . charming.

"Oh really? I'll have you know that toys and confections are a blossoming industry. They provide a much needed service to the populace," Ciel explained, half jokingly.

"And what might that service be?" the raven urged.

"Joy. Heaven knows we could all use more of that these days." The raven's expression changed, from a cocky smirk to a very clear smile of fondness.

"You're quite right, Lord Phantomhive. It is a very important service you provide. I apologize for taking it in jest," he said, very sincerely.

Just then, as in the story of _Aschenputtel,_ the clock struck midnight. It was quite clear to Ciel that the man wasn't going to forfeit his name so easily. He was going to have to find it out on his own. It wouldn't be difficult to do now. He could easily learn the names of every gentleman in attendance. That would give him a good head start.

"Well, it seems as though the hour has drawn late. I do suppose I shall see you again very soon," the raven said, "Goodnight, Earl Phantomhive." He gave the boy a polite bow before swiftly disappearing off into the low lying fog, which was beginning to drown the courtyard in a deep midnight haze. Ciel was left, once again, quite bewildered by the man in black. Still, he had to admit; this time around, it didn't feel quite so terrible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: As always, thanks for reading! I hope you guys continue to enjoy the story. Please comment if you have the time. Thanks! n_n 
> 
> Also: For those unfamiliar, Aschenputtel is the German version of the story of Cinderella. It was popularized by the Grimm brothers early in the 19th century and remains a very popular (and one of the original) versions of the story.


	7. Treacherous Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: dastardly deeds

Sunday morning found Ciel half-heartedly thumbing through his French textbook. His instructor had told him a few days prior that he was to have all formalities memorized by the end of the week. Although he only had one more day to get a grasp on them, Ciel's head couldn't be farther from his homework.

In fact, it wasn't long before he abandoned it altogether. In lieu of French, he decided to immerse himself in the profiles of all male attendees at the masquerade. He simply couldn't keep his mind free of the man in the raven mask. So infuriating he was; yet, somehow, Ciel couldn't escape the somewhat warm feeling he got when he thought about the sincere smile he wore the night before.

None of that was of any particular importance at the moment, however. The Earl sorted avidly through each profile, gauging (based on appearance alone) whether or not they could be the man he was searching for.

After only twelve minutes, Ciel came upon a name that amused him greatly; one Sebastian Michaelis. Clearly, he wasn't going to be able to evade his French lesson, not entirely anyway. Once the boy's delight had subsided, however, he noticed a rather interesting detail about the man's photograph. Even through the sepia tones, Ciel could recognize his smile. It was one that he had seen before. His hair was similar, albeit not styled exactly the same way as the bird in question. Even his eyes seemed familiar. There was no mistaking it; this had to be his raven man.

He was elated to have found him, but he still didn't have what it was he was after. He read on, desperate to find anything that would help him exact his revenge upon Mr. Michaelis. He discovered that the man was the head of a (once fairly successful) waterwheel factory and gristmill in London. He also learned that Sebastian's predecessor died from a bout of cholera he pick up during a trip to the orient six years ago, leaving Sebastian to inherit the company.

Ciel sat in contemplation for a while. _'Perhaps I don't need to seek revenge upon him. His own personal troubles are probably much worse than anything I could really do to him. London's dependence on steam power make the need for water power obsolete. Honestly, I'm rather surprised he has any business left at all.'_

Despite his reservations, he decided that it was worth it to take a look. He still wasn't sure that he didn't want to ruin Sebastian's life just yet, so collecting some of the man's secrets couldn't hurt. With that in mind, (and blatantly ignoring his French instructor's lesson still) Ciel gathered his cape, hat, and walking stick and set off to the city to get a closer look at Sebastian's factory.

Once again with his chef acting as his coachman, Ciel travelled through the rough countryside and into the (equally rough) streets of London. Just West of the city, along the Thames, was a fairly large building, with a giant wooden wheel turning vigorously through the water. The Earl simply couldn't wait to see for himself exactly how it was that Sebastian was managing to stay in business.

The moment he stepped out of his carriage, he was greeted by a tall man, with striking green eyes and jet black hair, which he kept brushed to the side. He was dressed well, all besides the fact that his nice clothes were stained with dirt. The downside of working in a factory, Ciel had to suppose.

"Hello there, sir. William T. Spears. Can I help you?" the man asked, shaking Ciel's hand firmly.

"Lord Phantomhive," Ciel replied. Introductions were a formality he often times wished he could avoid. "Indeed, you can. You see, I've heard of your troubles," he lied, only assuming they had any troubles to begin with, "I would appreciate a tour of the facilities. I've been pondering buying this property from Mr. Michaelis for some time. It would make an ideal location for my newest factory." William, who seemed a bit pleased with Ciel's arrival only moments ago, was now clearly distressed.

"I would be honoured to show you around, my Lord. However, I must warn you, I don't think that Mr. Michaelis is interested in selling the factory," William advised. Ciel grinned.

"Then I suppose I'll have to convince him."

"Very well, Lord Phantomhive. This way, please," the man urged, leading Ciel through the front doors. At first glance, it wasn't really anything special. Much of it looked a great deal like the Funtom factories, all except how run down it seemed to be. If not for the giant water wheel components and sickly looking workers, Ciel would have assumed the building had long since been abandoned. It was clear that Sebastian paid no expenses on regular maintenance. Then again, he probably couldn't afford to anyway.

Off to one side of the warehouse was a collection of unassembled wheels. On the opposite side were factory workers piecing together bits and bobs, which were beginning to resemble a giant wheel. Most of them, Ciel thought, were a bit too frail to be lifting such large objects. It was clear they made a very modest salary working in a place like this, not enough to feed themselves properly. As was the case in most modern factories.

"These men are assembling an overshot wheel for a powder mill," William explained, as though Ciel knew what the devil an overshot wheel was. The boy acknowledged it with mild interest, so as not to be rude. He didn't care the slightest bit about the details regarding the water wheel business. All he really wanted was Sebastian's secret. Surely there had to be one. . .

The tour continued onward, to the East side of the building. The smell of mildew was overwhelming down that particular corridor. So much so that Ciel found himself gagging, although, attempting to do so quietly.

"Just out here is our wheel," William explained, gesturing toward a window, outside which was the wheel Ciel had seen on his way in, still spinning restlessly. "We use it in the production of flour." Again, the soon to be Earl acknowledged Mr. Spears' words with a brusque bow of his head.

Nearing the end of the mouldy corridor was a large wooded door. William walked right past it, without even addressing it. Ciel, who had been following behind his tour guide, stopped in front of it and cleared his throat, to obtain William's attention. The manager turned to face him.

"What's behind this door, here?" the boy asked.

"Oh, that's just the gear room. This way, my Lord, this corridor will take us back to the main warehouse."

"I wish to see it," Ciel requested.

"I'm sorry, Lord Phantomhive. That room is off limits. It is quite dangerous," William said apologetically.

"I didn't say I wanted to go inside. I just want to see it. Besides which, I promise you, I'll have your job if you deny me again. Now open the door," the Earl commanded. William sighed deeply, knowing that his job would likely be lost whether he chose to open the door or not. But, he took an apprehensive step forward and pushed it open.

Ciel was, at first, stricken by the sight of large gears towering over his head. Beside them was a ladder, being propped up against a large metal bin. Soon, though, something different caught the Earl's attention. On the ladder stood a line of children, none of which could have been any older than nine or ten. The whole lot of them were covered, head to toe, in bruises, gashes, and dirt. The boy standing at the very top of the ladder (who was situated only about a foot away from the gears) was pouring a bucket of grain into the giant bin. Whereas the children below him were clearly responsible for passing buckets of grain up to the top.

On the other side of the room, there were a couple children collecting flour into sacks and hauling them away to a cupboard. Ciel stared, wide eyed, in shock and disgust. _'Child labour. . . so that's Sebastian's dirty little secret._ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Oh noes, Sebby. . . Whhhhyyyy?! Btw, can you guys tell I am a sucker for alliteration? Cheesy chapter titles ftw! Thanks for reading, guys! Please comment if you have the time. ^w^
> 
> Also: For those who don't already know this, Sébastien Michaëlis was a French inquisitor who wrote a report for a case on demonic possession. This report includes the classification of demons, and is widely used by demonologists today. Hence why Ciel found Sebastian's name so amusing. (Spoiler: It is clear Ciel is well aware of the work of Sébastien Michaëlis, as he, himself was the one who named Sebastian in the series.)


	8. One Door Closes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: nondescript violence, Victorian jargon

Sebastian Michaelis sat in his office late Sunday afternoon, deeply focused on his finances, as he usually was these days. He found that even the flour he produced from his mill wasn't enough to cover costs. Not that flour wasn't in demand, it certainly was. Rather, few markets would accept his business, solely for the fact that his mill wasn't nearly as quick nor efficient as the factories running on steam powered engines. Although not a pessimist by nature, Sebastian was beginning to feel quite dismal about his future as a miller.

As he brooded over his situation, there came something of a racket down the hall. He heard Grell shriek and figured that his useless butler had taken a tumble down the stairs again. That is, until he heard another voice, one deeper and much more commanding than that of the colourful red head. No sooner than he thought he recognized the voice in question, did his butler come running into his office, panic in his eyes.

“Lord Sebastian, there is an Earl Phantomhive here! He demands to speak with you. . .” the worried man declared, before a small hand emerged from behind him, pushing him aside.

“A word please, Mr. Michaelis,” a very irate Ciel Phantomhive hissed, standing proudly in the home owner's doorway, his hat in his hand.

“Ah, Lord Phantomhive. I see you really are as clever as they say. Grell, close the door on your way out,” Sebastian said, a pleasant grin on his face. It was so good to see his beautiful butterfly again. “So, then, what is it you. . .”

“What exactly are you playing at, hiring children to work in your factory?!” Ciel interrupted, his anger clearly evident in his eyes. Sebastian's heart skipped a beat. _'How could he have known . . . oh dear, he certainly is cunning. I wonder what else he knows about me,'_ he thought.

“You must understand, to some extent, Lord Phantomhive. You are a businessman as well. Workers can be quite expensive in today's market. My factory is in dreadful shape, as you have, no doubt, seen for yourself. I can't afford to hire many adults,” Sebastian defended. He was almost sure he could talk Ciel down if he simply explained his case.

“Child labour laws are in place. You cannot employ children under ten years of age in mills or factories. I've seen the children in your mill, and they are most certainly under ten years of age,” the boy growled.

“I'm not the only one who disregards those laws. Nobody pays any mind to them,” Sebastian argued.

“That doesn't make them any less illegal! Anyway, this isn't an issue of legality. . . it's an issue of safety. You are knowingly putting those children in danger,” Ciel spat, “You're quite lucky I've not gone to the authorities already.”

“Goodness, Lord Phantomhive, I had assumed you were as cold as the Arctic tundra. Why is it you care so much about the safety of my employees,” asked the man with the ebony hair.

“It's no concern of yours, Mr. Michaelis. Terminate their employment in your facilities immediately or I will see to it myself.” Sebastian was quite torn. Without them, his business would surely fail. One the other hand, getting arrested would also put a damper on things. But he wasn't yet willing to give up on his attempt to coax the boy into submission.

“Please, my Lord, don't be so rash. Think of it this way; those boys are working for me by their own choice. Very hard, I might add, to put food on the table and provide for their families,” Sebastian begged. Ciel would have none of it.

“On what wages? You can't honestly believe that 2 and 3 in a 12 hour workday is worth the cost of their lives?” the boy asked, a bit incredulously.

“You've no proof they work 12 hour shifts,” Sebastian declared.

“Based on their state, I can only assume. They are clearly sleep deprived and overworked. It is not up for debate, Mr. Michaelis. Terminate their employment or I shall do so for you, and shut down your entire operation in the process.” The young Earl had to wonder why he had chosen to confront Sebastian about this himself, rather than just using the information to ruin his life.

His excuse, he decided, was simply concern for the children's safety. He had a history with child abuse and it was his duty to service the Queen. Although, if Ciel were to discount his own pride, he might admit that it had more to do with the fact that he had grown rather fond of Sebastian, and didn't want to see him arrested.

“I'm afraid I can't do that, Lord Phantomhive. Should I lose my workers, my business would surely fail,” the man admitted.

“It already has failed. Admit defeat, would you? There is no need for water power anymore. London is moving forward, so should you,” the boy reasoned.

“It isn't that simple, I'm afraid,” the man muttered.

“How many children have lost their lives in that factory of yours, Mr. Michaelis?” Sebastian couldn't even manage to look the boy in the eye as he answered his question.

“23, since the mill opened 56 years ago. 2 since I've gained ownership,” he admitted solemnly, “but workers die in mills all the time. It's an inevitable risk.”

“Yes, however, most of those workers get a chance to live before they die,” Ciel announced furiously.

The very thing that Sebastian had been running from for years, was suddenly very real to him. Now, all that was left was fear and sadness. The person that had once brought him joy, was now delivering a sobering dose of reality.

“What do you propose I do once I'm bankrupt?” the raven asked, more as a hypothetical question, really.

“Take your business elsewhere. Possibly away from the city, where your services are in higher demand,” Ciel suggested, much calmer now that it seemed Sebastian was beginning to see reason.

“No, I can't leave London,” Sebastian pouted. Ciel sighed and shook his head.

“Then make an investment. Perhaps in a coal mine. I suppose that would increase your revenue,” the boy remarked, acting as though he had little interest in what Sebastian did. If he pretended hard enough, he could make himself believe it as well. “Good day, sir.”

With that, he placed his hat back atop his head and sauntered out of the raven's office. Even long after he had gone, Sebastian still remained, sitting in bewilderment behind his desk. He had very difficult decisions to make. . . very difficult decisions indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed it. Please review if you have the time. Thank you!
> 
> Also: (once again for those unaware) When Ciel accuses Sebastian of “thinking 2 and 3 in a 12 hour workday is worth the cost of their lives”- he is referring to 2 shillings and 3 pence, which was the average wage of a child worker of the day. Additionally, during this time there were laws in place that prevented children under ten from working in any industry. (although many still did on the hush-hush)


	9. Another Opens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Lots of Poe

Ciel sat at his desk, leafing through a collection of poems and prose. He found himself without any real distractions, which troubled him greatly. With nothing to really hold his concentration, he was left to ponder his own feelings; something he dreaded more than any of his lessons.

It had been a week since he last saw Sebastian. He discovered, in that time, that he was far weaker than he ever wanted to admit. It had been his absolute intention to destroy the man. Now, Ciel was left rather hating himself for losing his resolve. He never bothered to bond with anyone before (at least, not since the death of his parents), so why should he start now?

However, like the sinister beast whose face Sebastian often wore, in he flew and nested in Ciel's head. There was little the boy could do to stop him. Admittedly, he had been captivated by the iridescent glow of the raven's feathers and the haunting gleam about his scarlet eyes. It made him sick just to think about how entranced he had become.

He flipped through the pages, a bored sigh escaping his throat. That is, until he reached a poem that simply made him laugh; _“_ The Raven.”How appropriate it was for his musings, almost too perfect. It was a poem he was very familiar with. Edgar Allan Poe had a knack for the depraved and disturbed, which Ciel could certainly appreciate. The boy glanced out the window, his mind stuck on one particular verse which he had committed to memory.

“And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting. . . on the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door; And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming. And the lamp light o're him streaming throws his shadow on the floor. And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor shall be lifted. . . nevermore,” he performed aloud. After which he let out a hearty chuckle. ' _What on Earth is the matter with me?'_ he wondered, rubbing his temples to ease the throbbing that had begun to manifest there.

The door of his study was suddenly forced open, revealing his gardener (who, at the moment, was serving as a footman), Finny. Ciel had to wonder if he should just remove the door altogether, since it seemed none of his servants ever bothered to knock.

“Young Master, there's a Mr. Michaelis here to see you!” the blond man shouted, a bit out of breath. Ciel's attention had been successfully acquired. Finally, something interesting was bound to happen. Though he was growing weary of entertaining unannounced visitors.

“Send him in. And prepare tea,” Ciel instructed.

Moments later, Sebastian emerged from the corridor, looking every bit as immaculate and well kept as ever. He wore a smile, though Ciel could tell that it was not exactly a happy one. Before even greeting the boy properly, Sebastian looked at his desk and noticed his choice of reading.

“Ah, you're reading Poe, I see. “The Raven”no less, that's my favourite,” the man explained. Ciel had to suppress a laugh.

“I could've guessed that much. I find Poe's work rather pretentious and long winded for the most part. I do have a fondness for several of his poems though,” the Earl informed.

“Oh? Such as?” Sebastian asked, clearly very intrigued by the prospect of learning more about Ciel's taste in poetry.

“That's not important. What is it you came here for, Mr. Michaelis?” It was obvious that the child had no interest in accommodating him, so he simply moved on to the matter at hand.

“You'll be pleased to know that I am selling my mill,” the raven announced. Ciel nearly couldn't believe it. He _had_ ruined Sebastian's life after all. Though, it stands to reason that the man's factory would have failed soon anyway. “All of my workers have been dismissed and the factory shut down. My father would be quite disappointed but it can't be helped. It is a surprise that it was functional for as long as it was, honestly.”

“I see,” Ciel offered. He couldn't really say he was happy to hear it, even though he was sure that he should be.

“I'm not certain what I'll do now. But, since you were so insistent about my complying with the law, I thought you should know that it is no longer an issue,” Sebastian assured, trying to hide his grief.

“That's good to hear,” the Earl said. On one hand, he did mean it. After all, it would mean saving the lives of innocent children. Though, on the other hand, it troubled him to know that Sebastian was left destitute. Just then, an interesting idea occurred to the boy. “Should you find yourself in need of work, I could likely find a place for you in one of Funtom's factories,” he added, with a mischievous grin.

“No, no. I don't need your charity, Lord Phantomhive,” the raven clarified. Ciel was quite fascinated by this side of Sebastian. It was altogether different from the man behind the raven mask that he had come to know. If he hadn't heard it from the man's lips himself, Ciel would presume he had been mistaken in assuming Sebastian to be his masked raven. “Besides which, I simply can't leave London,” Sebastian concluded.

“We have a factory in London. It isn't a charity offer, Mr. Michaelis, it is a job offer,” the boy explained. A small, appreciative smile stretched across the raven's face; his infernal eyes aglow with genuine gratitude.

“I suppose I could manage that. Thank you kindly for the opportunity, Earl Phantomhive,” he nearly whispered. Before Ciel could reply, Finny came barging in, once again.

“Master, tea is ready. Would you like to take it in the atrium?”

“Yes. Would you care to join me for tea, Mr. Michaelis?” Ciel asked. Sebastian's smirk grew wider.

“I would be honoured, Lord Phantomhive.” Finny escorted them both to the atrium, where they were seated and served. They sat there, in awkward silence, sipping the concoction that Finny would call tea. It occurred to Ciel that he would have to strike up conversation with Sebastian, if he didn't want to be rude. He said the first thing that came into his mind. 

“Alone.” Sebastian set his cup down, wearing a perplexed expression.

“Beg pardon?” he asked, leaning his head toward Ciel, as if to imply he hadn't heard him.

“My favourite poem by Poe; “Alone,” Ciel clarified. Sebastian smiled, quite taken off guard by Ciel's sudden willingness to cooperate with him.

“I see. I don't seem to recall that one,” the man said, pondering if he had read it before. Ciel cleared his throat abruptly.

“From childhood's hour I have not been as others were. I have not seen as others saw. I could not bring my passions from a common spring. From the same source I have not taken my sorrow. I could not awaken my heart to joy at the same tone. And all I loved, I loved alone. Then, in my childhood, in the dawn of a most stormy life, was drawn from every depth of good and ill, the mystery which binds me still. From the torrent, or the fountain. From the red cliff of the mountain. From the sun that 'round me rolled, in its autumn tint of gold. From the lightening in the sky, as it passed me flying by. From the thunder and the storm and the cloud that took the form (When the rest of Heaven was blue) of a demon in my view,” the Earl recited masterfully. Sebastian could only stare at him as he did, a look of wonder and admiration upon his face.

“My, my. That is quite an astonishing memory you have, Lord Phantomhive,” the man finally said.

“I've read it more than a few times,” Ciel explained. He couldn't help but feel a bit embarrassed now, after realizing that it was clear he fancied that poem because he could relate to it. He hadn't meant for it to reveal anything personal about him, but he feared it did.

“It is a lovely poem, indeed. I fancy “Imitation” myself, though I certainly can't recite the whole of it,” Sebastian said with a chuckle. Ciel rolled his eyes in mild irritation.

“I wouldn't tease, if I were you. I am your boss, remember?” Ciel chided. Sebastian couldn't take the boy seriously, since it was clear he was being playful himself, as proven by the sadistic smirk he wore on his small, round face.

“Ah, yes. And in what position will I be starting, my lord?” the raven asked, coming down from his pleasant high. It was a question he had been thinking about ever since taking Ciel up on his offer.

“Hmm, I've not decided yet. I think I'll start you off at the bottom. Wouldn't want you getting cocky just because you used to be successful,” Ciel taunted.

“Come now, Lord Phantomhive, you're the reason I'm no longer successful. Don't you think you owe me a little something for the trouble you caused?” Sebastian asked, only half serious.

“Absolutely not. For one, your factory was failing all on its own. I wasn't responsible for its demise. Second, if anything you're the one who owes me for the humiliation you caused me at Viscount Druitt's masquerade,” Ciel admitted.

“Humiliation? I hadn't realized it caused you any humiliation, my Lord. It was only a bit of fun,” the man replied. Ciel couldn't believe what he was hearing. To think that Sebastian really hadn't detected his discomfort was nearly unimaginable.

“Really? You failed to notice the odd stares everyone was giving us? Or perhaps you missed me heaving for breath on the ballroom floor? I am asthmatic, you know?” Ciel declared crossly. Sebastian furrowed his brows in worry.

“Oh dear, I'm terribly sorry, my Lord. I had no idea. I thought you were simply a bit out of breath. I hope I didn't cause you harm,” Sebastian nearly whimpered. _'My poor butterfly, I am such a fool,'_ he thought.

“It's not important. It's your turn to dance in the palm of _my_ hand now, Mr. Michaelis,” Ciel replied with a grin. It was one Sebastian knew Ciel meant to be intimidating. Rather than scaring him, however, it only made the raven more optimistic about his future.

Tea soon finished and Sebastian bade his new employer farewell. He got into his carriage and made the journey home, all the while thinking of his new life. It had been some time since he had done any physical labour. Surely Ciel would not go easy on him. Then again, what fun would it be if he did?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: As always, thanks for reading! Comment if have the time, please.
> 
>  
> 
> Also: Obviously, “The Raven” and “Alone” were written by Mr. Poe. One must give credit where credit is due. XD


	10. Victorian Secrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: minor mentions of religion, adultery

 A young Earl, now seventeen years of age, sat in his study; squabbling with his chef about the food to be served at his wedding reception. If Ciel was half as heartless as he pretended to be, he would fire his useless chef to spare himself the embarrassment of serving his guests burnt meals. However, Bard had been his loyal chef for years. Not to mention, he doubled as a very competent security guard.

Outside the study; the boy's fiancée had taken to pounding relentlessly on the door, screaming as though she was about to be burned alive. The pressure of the upcoming wedding was weighing heavily on both the bride and the groom; in completely different ways. Ciel felt as though he was losing his sanity. He scarcely had time for his work anymore, with both of his aunts constantly badgering him about his marriage. Francis had even gone as far as to ask about children. Leave it to Francis to be so forward.

Ciel dismissed himself from his chef to tend to his (terribly needy) fiancée. When he finally opened the door, he was greeted with Elizabeth's downtrodden face. Her cheeks were stained with tears, though Ciel couldn't imagine why. Ever since they began planning for the wedding, he had catered to her every desire; most of which were absolutely ridiculous.

“What is it Elizabeth?” the boy said, trying for all the world to sound concerned.

“It's my gown. . . I hate it. It's not cute at all!” she whimpered, before breaking down into tears again. Ciel cringed.

“Is that all? Commission a new one then. We've still got time,” he assured, gripping her lightly by the shoulders to calm her.

“Really?! Oh, Ciel, thank you!” she screamed, pulling him into a tight hug. He found his face buried in her full, golden curls. Though he did have to admit they smelled heavenly, he didn't particularly enjoy being blinded by masses of hair. He pulled away, gently; wearing a smile that would have fooled even himself.

“Go on then, why don't you send word to Nina. Certainly she would do a lovely job designing a gown for you,” he suggested. Elizabeth seemed to ponder his suggestion with mild distaste. Like most women, she found Nina to be incredibly inappropriate and off-putting. But she couldn't say that the seamstress wasn't good at what she did.

“Alright, goodbye darling!” she screamed as she ran off down the hall, her bright orange gown billowing behind her. Ciel sighed, resigning himself to his fate. As long as Elizabeth was around, he was sure to be short of money. . .

He strolled casually through the manor, in an attempt to take his mind off of his troubles. He found this task much simpler once he entered the foyer and discovered he was due a visitor today; one that he actually welcomed.

There, being clumsily assisted by the Phantomhive house maid, stood the manager of the London branch of the Funtom Company. He had come to offer the weekly progress report, and more than likely, (as he usually did) a friendly ear as well.

“Sebastian, should I be expecting bad news?” Ciel asked, only being half serious.

“Good afternoon to you as well, Ciel,” the man replied with a smirk. He had taken to addressing his superior by his given name a couple years ago. Given their regular contact with one another, it simply felt more natural.

“I was just going to have tea. Would you care to join me?” Ciel offered. It always made Sebastian's day when Ciel asked him to stay for tea. Certain days, the boy was too busy with work or tending to his cousin to spare some time to talk. It was always special when he did. To Ciel, there couldn't have been a better time for a distraction. He desperately needed a reprieve from his invasive fiancée.

“That sounds lovely,” Sebastian said, pleasantly sliding his hands behind his back. The two retired to the atrium, where they often had tea together. For lack of anything better to speak of; Sebastian decided to ask the Earl of his most recent worries.

“How are the wedding plans coming along?” Ciel groaned at the question, though he was sure he hadn't meant to.

“I'd rather not discuss it,” he replied, clearly a bit defeated. Sebastian gave him a sympathetic smile, one that Ciel didn't even notice, due to his preoccupation with a crack on the floor.

“Do you even wish to marry Lady Elizabeth, Ciel? It seems as though you have been dreading this wedding for years,” Sebastian ventured. The Earl sighed.

“I do. Elizabeth will make a fine wife,” he explained, “I do admit, I'm not very compatible with her. But I make her happy, that's all that matters.”

“Certainly _her_ happiness isn't the only thing that matters to you,” Sebastian urged.

“A proper English gentleman should only be concerned with the contentment of his Lady. As far as a suitable wife is concerned, Elizabeth is perfect. She's not much for conversation, but I have you to fill that void,” Ciel concluded.

“Indeed,” Sebastian chuckled, taking a sip of his tea. Ciel followed suit, relishing in the comforting warmth of his most treasured drink. Somewhere in that comfort, his mind found a thought that had been lurking about in his head for some time; a kiss. More specifically, a kiss from Sebastian.

He wondered what it might be like. Just entertaining the thought was terribly improper and absolutely ridiculous, especially so near to his own wedding. But it was a persistent thought that he simply couldn't escape.

"Why haven't you taken a wife yet, Sebastian? You certainly have a sufficient amount of charm and money to woo a fine woman,” Ciel pondered aloud. Sebastian seemed taken a bit off his guard by the sudden inquiry.

“I've not found the time,” he replied, sounding quite unsure.

“I see. Do you not wish to marry?” Ciel persisted.

“Not really, to be honest. I find marriage a bit tedious and unnecessary,” the raven admitted, taking another casual sip of tea.

“It's quite necessary if you wish to carry on your bloodline,” Ciel added.

“I suppose. If you're interested in that sort of thing,” Sebastian chuckled. Once again, Ciel followed suit; allowing himself to laugh lightly at his employee's amusing proclamation.

The entire conversation had been Ciel's way of gauging Sebastian's interest in women. Although it didn't exactly give him much information, he had enough to know that he wouldn't be taking too big a risk. Sebastian's entire future depended solely on pleasing him. That being the case, Ciel felt completely safe exhibiting any sort of behaviour in front of his dear raven.

With absolute confidence and an unwavering resolve, Ciel stood and walked casually over to Sebastian, who remained seated and very confused.

“As you know all too well, Sebastian, I am very accustomed to getting exactly what I want,” Ciel purred, tilting the raven's head back with his lace clad fingers.

“I do know this,” Sebastian moaned, wearing a faint blush, “Is there something you want from me, Lord Phantomhive?” The sarcasm wasn't lost on Ciel, but he was far too engrossed in his task to care.

Rather than grace him with an answer, the teen leaned down to claim the man's tempting lips. He found, once their lips touched, that they were worth every bit of temptation they enticed. It was all the more gratifying when the crafty raven wrapped his arms around the Earl, pulling the boy onto his lap. It was incredible, Ciel thought, how during this rather long awaited kiss, time did indeed seem to slow. He had assumed that only happened in fiction. But sure as the sun set in the evening, the sweet bliss that was Sebastian's embrace lingered for, what seemed to be, forever.

When, finally, it did end; Ciel found himself breathless. Elizabeth's lips, he noted regrettably, were no contest to Sebastian's. Meanwhile, the raven was lost in a Heaven all his own. One far greater than anything he'd ever imagined. It took all he had in him to come back down to Earth. But come back down he did, after a couple minutes. Only to be delighted and horrified to find Ciel still straddling his lap.

“Oh, dear. What would your lovely fiancée think of that display?” Sebastian finally gasped, trying to hide the smirk that threatened to emerge.

“I don't intend for her to find out,” Ciel mumbled, wrapping his arms around Sebastian's neck. He only hoped that the man enjoyed that exchange as much as it seemed he did. Should he decide to tell his wife about it, he would certainly be ruined.

“My lips are sealed,” Sebastian assured, “but don't you feel a trifle guilty?”

“Should I feel guilty about finding pleasure in something? Besides, I've not yet made any promises to God. . . Even when I do, it's no concern of mine. I have no need for anything as trivial as the belief in a deity,” Ciel explained. It was clear to Sebastian that he was very much serious.

“So, am I to assume this will be a regular occurrence during my visits?” Sebastian wondered. Ciel gave him an incredulous smirk, one which made the man want to claim the Earl's lips once more.

“Do you even need to ask?”

“I suppose not,” Sebastian laughed, “Should I be expecting this to stop after your wedding day?” Ciel scowled.

“Weren't you listening to me? I see no reason to feel guilty about finding pleasure in someone, as Elizabeth does with me. It's only fair,” the boy proclaimed. Sebastian, abandoning all reason, reached up to stroke his butterfly's beautiful cheek.

“And what will you do when just my lips are no longer enough?” he ventured. Ciel smirked, glaring at his raven through seductive cerulean eyes.

“I am the master of games, Sebastian. I find that the rules are best made up as you go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I know, aren't I just the worst. XD This is the official end of the story, however, there is a bonus chapter in the works. (which may or may not contain a lemon) It's release date is pending, but hopefully it will be out soon.


End file.
